When all you can say is WOW

Photos by the very talented Brady Dillsworth (George Eastman House photographer)

Pinch me.

I don't know that there are a lot of times in life where you take a deep breath in and think that you are dreaming. Wednesday I was having one of those nights. I won an award given by some of the people I respect most in this city.

Roc City Rising is an event that invites established community leaders and groups of young professionals to the world famous George Eastman House for a night of networking and energizing. Young people with fresh ideas and perspective can mix with the likes of the mayor, the county executive and other elected officials and notable Rochesterians.

When Maria Fisher (then Thomas) first approached me about attending this event three years ago, in its first year, I was more than a little intimidated. She secured me a table for I'm Too Young For This almost immediately. It was something about her ease and encouragement that settled my panic. It was not only her willingness, but utter determination to help connect me to this opportunity that made me forget all of the misgivings I might have had.

You might ask why I was intimidated. I felt that those in the room I would inhabit would be different from me--successful and on their stride. After years of struggling to peak my head out from a curtain of illness that covered everything else in my identity I felt like this was a place I did not belong---yet. I was happily so very wrong. And despite my trepidation got the very distinct feeling that amidst the crowd of suits and the tinkling of wine glasses, there were people attending that just like me wanted to make a difference in their community.

Nicole Brown joined me from that first year and we were able to take turns moving outside of the boundaries of the table into the crowded room. Our table was all the buzz. People stopped and noticed a sign that said "stupid cancer" and sometimes would have to ask. Many of them probably had not even seen the word 'stupid' printed brazenly in large letters at such an event. What surprised us both was the amount of YPs that told us they knew a friend their age who was struggling with cancer. One young woman even quietly glanced side to side, as though checking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers, as she whispered--"I had cancer too".

This event ended up being the biggest and most powerful way to get the word out to our demographic about what we were doing with the then newly formed chapter of I'm Too Young For This...and it didn't stop there. Maria would play an integral role in getting the word out to the masses of the young professional community--in a way that reverberated over the next few years to come.

This high profile opportunity- to tell people why cancer is something to talk

about for the very generation the event was meant for - became an annual tradition.

This Wednesday night when Maria began to read the speech she had written to introduce me as the first recipient of the Emerging Leader Award presented by the Eastman Young Professionals and the Roc City Coalition I felt the tears coming.

Since Day One-- Maria had not only become aware of the profound impact of cancer on young adults, but had grappled herself with the echo of cancer strongly within a smaller local circle. Her very real and profound connection to cancer came with the loss of a dear friend. Maria got it.

She got why this was different- and she got why this was a message others needed to hear. The fact that it was her who presented me with the award was more meaningful than I can ever describe...and the fact that she had managed to still surprise me made me an absolute "puddle".

Just mere moments before I stepped near the podium to prepare to be called up to it, I had seen my parents arrive and my sister and brother in law--so it was only then that I knew the 'nomination' that Maria had told me would be announced...was not truly a nomination--it was the real deal.

A hug from Maria. I think the emotion is pretty evident from this picture.

Words have failed to really describe it...so all I can say is wow.

What a long road it has been these few years. Don't get me wrong I haven't really changed.

I still am the same ol' Leah. I'm the girl who trips over her own feet, feels victorious when she eats dessert before the main course... and is still very often caught by a stranger at a stoplight in the car next to me singing heart and soul out (usually to something Tom Petty).

I haven't changed all that much. It's just funny how things appear to have changed around me.

Six degrees of Z-man

I met a friend of Zach's today...

and it's fitting to write this now tired, slightly achy and headed to the shower after a workout.

Mary Eggers is just the kind of person that I can totally imagine Zach gravitating toward in his early quest to make his athletic goals come true. She is the real deal. Funny how life brings people at just the right time.

When I first found Mary it was through her blogs. Way back in the day she wrote the most touching blog about Zach, after meeting him for the first time. Later she became one of his most vocal supporters, trying to garner votes for him when we were pushing him through the channels on his way to win the LiveStrong Dare to Share Your Story contest. Her account of meeting him at his very first triathlon was so quintessentially Zach that I knew she understood the kind of person he was. I had to email her and reach out--and so I did---that was the fall of '08.

And today---roughly 18 months after that electronic introduction-- (here in the spring of '10) I found myself face to face with this kick ass athlete, trainer, 5 time Ironwoman, wife, mother, nurse and blogger... and what is the occasion? what am I up to? ...I'm ready to tell you.

Three weeks ago after a run I found myself overcome with emotion during an attempt to run. I don't feel really ready to fully describe that experience here, but suffice it to say it was emotion this time and not the breathlessness that made me stop...and then it was something else that kept me running. Tears filled my eyes and I felt a very keen sense that I was not running alone. When I got home-- almost on instinct I flipped open my laptop and emailed Mary. I didn't wait until the feeling had passed-- I just typed to her as the tears were still splashing on the keyboard. I just asked her a question---if someone like me---whose lungs are shot (and badly scarred from treatment) could ever do a 5K?

She wrote me back in 5 minutes. Her answer---was of course--YES.

And so---no turning back.

So today in the Pittsford Y lobby--where Mary waited for her son to finish gymnastics class--we chatted about what it will take, how I can accomplish this successfully---and of course about Zach.

There are times I can feel the inspiration that Zach placed in people---and I could feel that with Mary. When you meet someone special and they are no longer of this earth---its kind of comforting to be around someone else who gets them---and hasn't forgotten their spirit. Its a joy that is tinted with sadness--that Zach was not here to do the introduction.

I must thank Mary from the bottom of my heart--she's agreed to train someone like me--- out of shape, clueless and fearful of doing something the wrong way---as a pure and honest gesture of friendship. Something about that gives me confidence- to make me believe maybe I can achieve this goal.

Zach--you have a mysterious way of reminding me--and others that your spirit still lives on.

I have a lot of work to do, but I think you'll agree...it's something worth fighting for.

Dr. Seuss meets Pema Chodron

Life brings you things that challenge you when you open yourself up to something new. Yet when flipped around, life can also open you up to something new--- when you are challenged.

This is my take-away from an amazing new page-turner I've been reading in spare moments at day's end--the time that comes before my eyes start to flutter enough for me to switch out the light. My friend Tracy introduced me to a writer and philosopher whose book is captivating me and somehow this Pema Chodron feels more like required reading with each turn of the page.

Currently I am reading The Places That Scare You. In my mind's eye it seems the adult philosophical sequel to the undoubtedly famous All The Places You Will Go. You know that one. Everyone I knew got a copy of that Dr. Seuss book as 'that token gift' upon graduating from high school. I remember thinking that sort of optimism was truly about charging forward and taking on the world. What on earth would make me draw this connection? Perhaps because Dr. Seuss was in many ways as schoolchildren our first introduction to philosophy, all bundled in bright primary colors, fun and whimsy.

Watch below to refresh yourself on this commencement gift classic...

Where Pema seems to pick up-- is that important little middle lesson that Dr. Seuss's book skimmed over--- exploring the place where you've lost and need to reclaim the wonder. It's that wonder and excitement that through 'growing up' one may abandon.

Somewhere along my road--through the fear acquired from naturally "fear-inducing" experiences I followed different paths and the places I went, or was on the way to going changed.

Yet, contemplating this sort of a scenario---regarding those broken bridges and detours as places I tend to look upon with bitterness really has never done any good. Concentrating only on the impossibilities of "what if" and "if only" would be a horrible way to live life, right? But in little bits I did that. Negative self-talk seems hard to avoid at times. Yet Chodron's words direct us to stay steady on course.

The HERE and NOW is where it's at. She emphasizes that there are no promises of fruition in life. She seems to lead us toward looking at joy and sorrow with a more complex lens. It is this challenge-- to look deeply at both joy and sorrow and have gratitude for both for the value of what it teaches us that triggers a profound change in our thinking.

This is also my take-away from several experiences in my life as of late. The old way I used to cope with the fall-out from new things that became dead-ends was counterproductive. New thoughts and new confidence are bringing me a different groove, so to speak,---a different way to look at those seemingly aimless detours.

Are dead-ends really hopeless? Or are they just leading us to an intentional re-route? Dr. Seuss planted the seed, but my recent read has clarified those thoughts. Disappointment, in matters of the heart or in matters of course, is going to be there. Whatever alternate scenarios exist in some other possible plain of life (the one containing unfulfilled plans or dreams that didn't transpire) aren't where I was supposed to be...

There is something comforting in letting go of an ache to go back and try to make it different. You can't. Now is what's real.

Thank you Tracy. Thank you Dr. Seuss and Pema Chodron.

Oh...the places you can go when you begin to let go of the harmful 'what ifs'.

'Runny' is bad. Diversify---good!

A runny nose tells me May is here. I don't think there's any ragweed in the city, but something must be making me 'run' like a champion. I may have never mentioned the whole allergy thing. Where is that damn bottle of Allegra (likely expired)?

Well, it's not the allergies that kept me totally out of a morning jog today but maybe too much salsa sashay in my Zumba class last night. What a workout!

Did I mention I've been taking classes at a gym? It's only a two week trial, but I am trying to make the most of it. Dancing as you most know is hard for me to resist--so I think by building a variety laden workout schedule I can't possibly get bored with I'll be more likely to stick to it. Diversify. Heck, that principle works for investments...makes sense for the workout too.

Keep the comments coming. I need the encouragement.

when fear jogs through my mind...

I will admit it--- there are lots of things that scare me. Having cancer didn't eradicate that sometimes timid part of my nature. I'm no daredevil and usually when I try to be it can end in...well... humiliation or near disaster.

Fear hasn't been the only thing keeping me from regular or vigorous workouts in recent years. Since my second battle with cancer my lungs have felt heavy and I've failed to catch my breath after any length of a run. There are at least two possible reasons for this--and maybe even a combination; scar tissue inside--- or the lasting souvenir side effects of my nasty, but necessary bleomycin. "Bleo", as I affectionately call it, is undeniably a miracle drug--but so notorious for its harmful lasting effect on lungs that Lance had it removed from his protocol during treatment.

And now...I cant help but think Bleo was having its little laugh on me. But does it have to be that way?

One avoids what one fears...because fear is protection. Fear is like a shelter. Living within its confines seems so comfortable for a while. Yet it restricts us-- preventing us from experiencing anything new and in the end it just traps us in stasis.

I had to get to a point recently where I admitted a fear had gotten the best of me. Sure, I am a busy girl---I work a lot, I play a lot...I am always on the go...but my excuses were running out.

I avoided running because it scared me. And then I remember Zach. His voice still rings in my ears.

What the heck am I afraid of? I know that's what he would say if he were here.

Three weeks ago I started jogging around my block...I started tracking my progress easily by following the ordered grid of my street. I am at the H end of a line of alphabetical intersecting streets...and when I first started with this plan I could barely get from H to E without stopping. Yet--over the last three weeks something has happened...I've gotten farther. I now am beginning to work toward looping around the alphabet.

When I've felt that pressure on my lungs...I have resisted the urge to stop, but instead I slow the pace...change my breathing. The progress has been very gradual-- day to day.

I've felt stronger...and something has replaced that former fear. It's not to say that I'm fearless. I still move with the caution of someone who knows what it means to suffer a setback--but I just don't feel that same tension anymore. Instead I feel something childlike and exciting.

I feel curiosity.

Every day my curiosity, instead of my fear, kicks in first as I lace up.

I'm curious because I want to see how much farther I'll go today...

Flick the flick

Having spent large chunks of my life seriously ill has led to the accumulation of a lot of "stuff" meant to entertain someone not able to be active.

Read this: I have a lot of DVDs...some have been gifts...but I've seen the need to (slightly) reduce my collection. Besides, as my sister reminded me "do you really have time for all these movies anyway?"

Good point.

If I don't really like the movie that I own I think its obvious it should go, right?

Ummm...yeah pretty simple.

Today we are going to play Flick the Flick--I've been doing this large scale, but just to simplify so you folks can play at home...see the assortment above.

Let's take a sampling of 8 DVDs--

Seven of these films are special to my heart, make me laugh till I cry or hold some significance. One of them is just taking up space.

See if you can select the movie that should be pitched.

If your answer agrees with mine...well, you don't win anything, but you have the satisfaction of knowing you're special. :)

Ready?

Set?

Pick...

Featured item of DAY:

The movie I should have not even rented

Category: Cinema

Winner of Community Garage Sale submission: Fools Gold!!!!

Proof that Matthew McConaughey running around a tropical island shirtless is no good reason to waste precious shelf space.

Past tense Overhaul

Past tense. For me that phrase holds a double meaning. The past can make us tense.

And so I'm making an attempt to clear some of the remnants of the past--to make things not so tense.

One might argue that anything that's "done is done"; that the past does not influence our present state. But it does. Here I am---on a Saturday morning going all lumpy couch philosopher (don't have an armchair) and you're thinking I need to just shut up and tell you about the fun adventure I had instead. Bare with me.

This week- this vacation--- I am staying put. For the first time in almost I don't know how many years I am not hopping a flight or a train and putting miles between myself and my home on spring break. I am staying right here and making my adventures not only local, but purposeful as it relates to my daily life. I am trying to make a dent in a collection of articles from the past....objects of varying degrees of sentiment....that need to be pitched.

Over the course of this effort I will try to present a picture a day (if I can

stick to this) of an object from the past, its significance (however shallow in justification) and then tell you its fate. STAY TUNED as the visual catalogue

builds.

Featured item of DAY ONE: Le Femme De la Nuit

Category: Artwork

This is the first 'original' artwork acquired after moving from my first post-college apartment. Ummm yeah.

Please do not judge. I was very utilitarian and my Japanese roommate actually left this picture behind when she took off for parts unknown. She insisted it was not her painting (although she was an art and photography student). Supposedly, she h

ad saved it from the discard project pile at R.I.T.

So why did I save it? Somehow at the time it just intrigued me because of the black and white and the simplicity. Probably the same reason the roommie saved it from the flames of the college's incinerator. Let's be real though---even the lines, the angles and shadows are wrong and it violates all laws of perspective that I remember from my limited art training.

Perhaps I tried to justify keeping it in storage because it represented something-- a time and a place in my life. And maybe at one point I thought the painting was akin to commentary (a happening single girl taking a moment to reflect). Well...that was until my friend announced with absolute certainty "it's a hooker".

In all actuality it is just bad art. IT GOES!